


Private Island

by orphan_account



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In the aftermath of the Sanderson case, police business puts too much distance between Jack and Phryne, so she proposes a little adventure.





	1. Exhausted

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by talk of Miss Fisher Island. This is a not going to be a long piece overall, and I could have waited to post, but the first scene was done and I got impatient ;-) Consider it a tease.

In a criminal matter as large as the one involving George Sanderson and Sidney Fletcher, there were bound to be days upon days of official investigation even after arrests were made. Phryne was no stranger to police interview procedures and had participated in her share of courtroom testimony. Still, the nature of _this_ case made the hours of additional questioning particularly wearying. 

For days, her only contact with Jack had been as they passed one another in dimly lit hallways — his eyes downcast as he escorted Rosie to her own interviews, or engaged in muffled conversation with other detectives and police brass. Respectfully, Phryne kept her distance in public while waiting — as patiently as was possible for Phryne Fisher — hoping Jack might drop by for a nightcap at the end of one of these interminable days. 

Friday afternoon she reached the end of her patience. 

The winter sun was low in the sky as she spied Jack on a surprisingly deserted alley near Russell Street, helping Rosie into a waiting cab. As the cab pulled away, Phryne stepped in close, threading her left arm through the crook of his right elbow. 

Jack didn’t turn or remove his hand from the pocket of his weathered overcoat. He simply exhaled, relieved by her nearness and grateful to find they were alone. 

“Miss Fisher,” he said, his voice a low rumble. 

She leaned into him as they walked in step towards the Hispano. “Come back with me to Wardlow, Jack. I’ll have Mr. Butler serve dinner early.” 

“Do I look that bad?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone. He paused their progress and turned to face her without dislodging her arm from his. 

“You’re exhausted,” she answered. “Understandably so.” Phryne brought her right hand up to adjust the tilt of his fedora, examining the fatigue in his eyes. 

“And due back at City South to face a mountain of other work,” he replied. “Dinner tomorrow, perhaps, if the offer will hold.” 

“The offer always holds, Jack,” Phryne interjected, her quick delivery overlapping slightly with his slower cadence. “But I have a better idea. Tomorrow is still your day off, yes?” 

Jack nodded, a faint smile appearing at the edge of his mouth. 

“Good,” Phryne said, her own smile growing wide at the prospect of the day together. “I’ll pick you up at nine. Dress warmly.” 

“You won’t tell me what we’re up to?” he asked. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” she responded, lowering her sunglasses back in place as she opened the door of the Hispano and climbed in. “I don’t have all the details,” she continued, “but I suspect we’ll be gone all day.” 

Jack kept a hand on the car door, reluctant to let her pull away. 

Phryne turned the engine. 

“And Jack,” she smiled, “I can’t promise we’ll be back tomorrow night. Best to pack an overnight bag, just in case.” 


	2. Odd Man Out

Jack woke up — that groggy half-awake stage that can follow the first few hours of a long-awaited deep sleep. 

The unfamiliar room was dark and quiet. Jack had a vague memory of falling asleep when it was still daylight, intending a short nap before supper. Now the nearly full moon was framed by the room’s one window. Jack pulled on his trousers and padded across the rough-hewn floorboard to tug the lower window panel down into place against the evening chill. There was nothing to see beyond the farmhouse — only field and dune, coast and waves. 

As Jack looked to the bay, the details came back and snapped into focus. This was Elizabeth Island — a privately owned island in the bay east of the Mornington Peninsula, and perhaps a future outpost of the Melbourne Adventuresses Club. Phryne was here to evaluate the possibilities of that venture. There had been cars and ferries and at least one rickety private plane. There had been much tramping about in the damp and fog, and a wait for dinner that had dragged on endlessly before Jack removed himself to his room for a rest. 

To be honest, Jack wasn’t entirely sure why he was here — other than she had asked him to come along and it had become increasingly difficult for him to tell her no. He let his thoughts wander to the moment at Wardlow just a few nights ago, before her aunt had interrupted. He’d imagined the continuation of the evening so vividly that there was a part of him that felt it had happened — his hand at her waist, his lips on hers, her hands pulling him closer, calling his name, then guiding him upstairs. 

“Mac, have you seen the other torch?” It was Phryne’s voice, piercing the silence below. 

“My bag in the front parlor,” replied Dr. MacMillan, at equally high volume. 

An indistinguishable cluster of other voices filled the soundscape now. A scratchy jazz tune blared from the hand-cranked gramophone, followed by laughter and the clink of glasses. 

Jack glanced at his watch. It was early yet by Adventuresses standards. He re-buttoned his shirt, pulled on a grey woolen jumper, and made his way downstairs. 

* * *

“I still don’t understand why she brought him.” 

This was the first voice Jack heard as he reached the kitchen. Olive — or maybe Olivia, Jack wasn’t certain — had her back to the doorway stirring a pitcher of rum punch. 

“He’s had a difficult week,” Mac responded matter-of-factly. 

“So have I,” Olive answered. “This is supposed to be our private getaway. How can that happen if Phryne brings a man along? It changes the whole dynamic.” 

“The Inspector’s not any man,” Mac defended. 

“Here, taste this,” Olive said, holding an ample spoon in Mac’s direction. “And that’s exactly my point, Mac,” she continued. “He’s not any man, he’s a police officer.” 

Jack cleared his throat and strode into the kitchen. “Unless that’s been smuggled illegally, you’ll get no trouble from me Miss Smithfield,” he said. He was aiming for a light tone to diffuse the situation. Olive didn’t pick up on the subtlety, but Mac did. 

“Whiskey in the top right cupboard, Inspector,” Mac offered. 

As Jack busied himself with his drink, Olive scooped up her pitcher and rejoined the gathering in the parlor. Another Dixieland tune blared from the gramophone as she opened the parlor door, then muffled as the door shut behind her. 

“Miss Smithfield’s not wrong,” Jack added, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I don’t believe I should be here this weekend.” 

“She wants you here,” Mac replied. There was no need to say who. 

“And that’s enough?” he asked. 

She shrugged, “Not really my business, is it?” 

Mac crossed to a large wash basin and poured her share of Olive’s rum concoction down the drain. She motioned to Jack for the whiskey bottle to pour her own generous glass, then resumed her seat across from him. “Besides, if the club wants Phryne to put up the collateral and co-sign the loan for this little folly, they’ll have to grant her certain indulgences.” 

Jack swallowed the last of his whiskey. “I’d rather not be an indulgence, all the same.” 

Mac shrugged once again, then drained her own glass. Reassurance was one thing, but she had no desire to delve too deeply into these waters. 

“She’s not in there, you know,” she said, gesturing to the parlor. “She’s outside with the caretaker. Some of the sheep escaped the barn earlier and they’re trying to get them back to safety.” 

“They may need some help,” Jack replied, pushing back his chair. 

“There’s another torch on the front porch,” Mac said. 

Jack smiled and raised his glass in salute, “Thank you Doctor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Elizabeth Island](http://elizabethisland.com.au/) is available to rent at present and welcomes "sale enquiries" ;-)


	3. Moonlight Rendevouz

Jack turned off his torch as he reached the open pasture near the barn. Once his eyes adjusted, the moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the only object that mattered — Phryne — her back to him as she stood guard near the barn gate, right arm raised as she peered further into the distance, waiting, Jack presumed, for the island’s caretaker to return with another wayward member of the island flock. She wore rubber waders over dark pants and a man’s coarse work coat. She was the most beautiful thing he had even seen. 

Moving slowly, Jack inched closer until she sensed his presence. 

“Miss Fisher,” he greeted. “Thought you might be thirsty,” he added as she turned. The silver flask caught the moonlight as he held it out to her in offering. 

Phryne unscrewed the top, took a long swig, then held the flask out to him in return, just short of his reach. 

Jack smiled and cocked his head in silent inquiry. 

“I can’t move from the gate,” she responded. “Or we’ll have more escapees.” 

Widening his gaze now, Jack examined the surroundings. A barn with jagged gaps where wooden facing used to be. A rickety attached fence encircling a yard on three sides, the gate rusted off its flimsy hinges. A dozen sheep in the yard and more in the barn. 

“I’ve never know you to be so attached to barnyard creatures,” he quipped, stepping closer to retrieve the flask. 

“They’re the income portion of this venture,” Phryne responded. “In theory, at least.” 

“Here,” Jack said, stepping yet closer to add ballast against the makeshift barricade. 

“Not what you expected for the weekend,” she smirked. 

“I’ve learned its best not to have expectations where you’re concerned, Miss Fisher,” he retorted. 

“You’re disappointed,” Phryne continued, her tone now deeper and more sincere. 

“No,” he said simply, a little nod of his head to show his resignation to the turn of events. 

“Well I’m disappointed, Jack. This wasn’t what I had in mind for our overnight adventure.” They were side by side now, shoulder to shoulder as they leaned in unison against the recalcitrant gate. 

Jack took another sip of whiskey from the flask, holding her gaze without wavering. He knew her underlying meaning and yet... “Olive will be devastated,” he deflected. “She seemed most keen of having this as an Adventuresses’ private getaway.” 

“Olive will move on,” Phryne replied, stepping away now to stretch her legs. “She’s a hopeless romantic. The first to conjure a picture of endless sunny skies and yachting parties, and the first to find herself otherwise occupied with a jaunt to the Continent when it’s time to ante up for a new roof.” 

“Perhaps she simply fell in love,” Jack ventured, his voice so gentle now that no one would mistake the flighty Olive as the true subject of his statement. 

"Perhaps," Phryne answered, letting the word hang between them as she evaluated the waters. "But if it were truly love, Jack — not infatuation or fleeting desire — wouldn’t that make Olive _more_ interested in the long term prospects — the soundness of the foundation, the stability of the frame.” 

Phryne moved close, near enough to reach inside the inner pocket of Jack’s coat to retrieve the whiskey flask once again. 

“If it were truly love,” Jack echoed, his handing lightly resting on her waist, “A certain caution would be advisable.” 

He didn't kiss her. She didn't tease. They felt the solid ground beneath them. 

“So we might try this again,” Phryne said, once the silence seemed in need of filling. “Another weekend, with a little more planning and forethought — Mac and I have a ski trip planned — if that strikes your fancy, or…” 

“Or,” Jack interjected, “A dinner together, on a night with no interruptions.” 

“That would be an adventure,” Phryne smiled. “I’d like that very much.” 

“Head back inside and warm up,” Jack said. “I’ll wait for the caretaker to return.” 

Phryne leaned in and kissed him lightly, cautiously, on the cheek, then turned towards the farmhouse, coat pulled tight. 

Jack watched until she disappeared around the corner, out of sight. _If it were truly love_ , he thought, _it would be worth the wait_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, look at that. It stayed in canon after all ;-)


End file.
